


It's a Kilt, Dammit!

by likethenight



Category: King Arthur (2004)
Genre: Kilts, M/M, no actual cross-dressing, slight anti-crossdressing attitudes on the part of other characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 01:04:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2832548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likethenight/pseuds/likethenight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Galahad is at great pains to remind anyone who needs it that his chosen attire is a kilt, not a skirt, thank you very much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a Kilt, Dammit!

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a fic-on-demand for bandonbanshee over at LJ, c.2004, who requested a story about Galahad's skirt, preferably involving Gawain. Contains several gratuitous references to Galahad's knees. Lindsey, if you're out there, this is for you!

Galahad was very attached to his kilt. The other knights had a tendency to mock him because of it, teasing him about wearing a woman's skirt (although the Roman soldiers wore kilts similar to Galahad's, in Sarmatia breeches were definitely the norm for men). Galahad would ignore them manfully for all of about five minutes, then blow up spectacularly at whoever it was this time and stomp off to somewhere less infested with idiots who couldn't tell the difference between a kilt and a skirt.

The only one who didn't tease him about it was Gawain. This was partly because Gawain knew better than to provoke Galahad too much (although he loved the sight of Galahad in a rage, he had the sense not to incite that rage too often); and partly because Gawain himself secretly rather liked the kilt. It was practical for riding and for fighting, allowing for great freedom of movement, although at the cost of protection for the thighs; and it showed off Galahad's knees to great effect. Privately, Gawain thought that Galahad's knees were probably the finest he'd ever seen. Knees, and thighs, and...well, all of him, in fact. Gawain often had terrible trouble keeping his eyes off Galahad; indeed, it had almost cost him dear in battle more than once, when he had become distracted by the sight of Galahad in full cry. He might not enjoy being a warrior, but he was a damned magnificent one all the same.

Gawain always ended up volunteering for Galahad-appeasing duty, which in itself afforded the others more opportunities for teasing. Gawain took it all far more calmly than Galahad, his even temper allowing him simply to smile, shrug and walk away, not confirming their jibes but not denying them either; what was the point in denying it when everyone knew it was true? He would leave them to their lewd comments and go to look for his friend. Galahad was never far away; usually he was to be found throwing knives viciously at trees, or the stable door, usually with more strength than accuracy. Gawain would walk up behind him, making just enough noise to be heard, and sit down on the nearest tree stump, wall or bench, depending on their surroundings. He would then wait for Galahad's anger to fade, all the time availing himself of the opportunity to enjoy the view.

When Galahad was calm again, Gawain would motion for him to come and sit down, and the conversation that followed usually went something like this:

"You know they only do it because it winds you up," Gawain would say, and Galahad would scowl.

"I know. Bastards."

There would be a brief silence, and then Galahad would launch into a rant about how it was his kilt, and he liked it, and it was his business what he wore; he would hold forth on the idiocy of not being able to tell the difference between a kilt and a skirt, and the iniquity of people who called themselves friends and then spent their time making fun of him. Eventually he would wind down, and Gawain would (after checking that the coast was clear) rest one hand on Galahad's knee, his fingers tracing little circles on Galahad's skin.

"They just don't know what they're talking about," he would say in a conciliatory tone of voice. "It's a very nice sk-kilt," he would correct himself, forestalling another outburst of temper by beginning to slide his hand a little further north, continuing to trace those little circles. "In fact I'm rather fond of it myself," he would say, and his hand would slide a little higher, just underneath the hem of the kilt, and he would count under his breath as he waited for Galahad's reaction. He never got much past three before Galahad would call him a manipulative bastard and gasp something about it perhaps being a good idea to go and find somewhere a little more private. 

Gawain would grin and let his fingers climb just a little higher before taking his hand away and standing up, leading the way to privacy trailed by a cursing Galahad. The cursing never lasted for long, however; one of the very best things about that kilt was that it allowed for freedom of movement. In fact, if Galahad was feeling particularly impatient, he didn't even have to take it off.

All in all, Galahad felt that the advantages of his kilt definitely outweighed the disadvantages, and he didn't have to ask Gawain to know that he agreed wholeheartedly.


End file.
